


Reunion

by sunaddicted



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Arkham Asylum, Blackgate Penitentiary, Body Image, Established Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: s05e11, Reunions, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: He was a living and breathing legend, the man who had managed to fool Sal Maroni, Fish Mooney and Carmine Falcone all at the same time.And it was a new day for him





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Before Gotham ruins the reunion between Edward and Oswald after a long ass decade, here's my take on it.

_Reunion_

Oswald slid inside the car with palpable relief, extremely glad that it was already awaiting him despite the fact that the authorities had obstinately been purposefully vague about the time of his release.

As if he hadn't already paid more than his dues. 

"Please, get me away from here" Oswald ordered with a tired sigh.

How could have those demented journalists thought that he would have liked to be reminded of the fact that their precious Commissioner had tossed him into Blackgate for the past decade? Had they expected him to snivel about how _grateful_ he was that at least he hadn't been sent back to Arkham? After everything he had done and everything he had sacrificed... sure, his involvement in the battle for Gotham hadn't been entirely selfless but he had fought for the city - _its new foundations had been built on his blood too_. 

Whereas most of those journalists hadn't even been in Gotham when the city had fallen and every human instinct had been pushed aside in name of survival - they hadn't had to fight for scraps of food; they hadn't been forced to go unwashed for weeks; they hadn't had to endure pain they weren't used to because medicines had been the first thing to be rationed. 

They had no right to speculate about what he would do.

No right at all to expect him to fall as soon as he had put his foot out of prison. 

"Where to, sir?"

Oswald flicked the annoyance away: there were more important things that required his focus - it wasn't like he hadn't already spent the last ten years seething in his cage, struggling to get the city back under his control despite the fact that he was behind bars. Oswald had managed, his name still put the fear of God into people: everyone knew that it was better to be on his side than finding themselves on the wrong end of the barrel of his gun.

He was a living and breathing legend, the man who had managed to fool Sal Maroni, Fish Mooney and Carmine Falcone all at the same time. 

And it was a new day for him. 

 _A new beginning_.

He had had plenty of those. 

"Arkham Asylum"

"Yes, sir"

The drive technically wasn't a particularly long one but Gotham's average traffic easily turned a trip that could have lasted only a quarter of an hour at most into a forty-minute long nightmare - that was the main reason why he didn't drive, really: his bad leg wasn't that much of an impediment, used as he was to ignoring the pain. What his nerves couldn't take were the endless jams, the people driving like they had all cheated at their licence exams, the constant honking as if it could actually do anything to speed up the resolution of an accident.

Truly extenuating and he didn't see why he should put himself through such a stressful experience when he had the money to afford a personal driver.

Oswald forced himself to relax against the back of the seat, taking a moment to relish in the plush softness of the leather; Blackgate wasn't exactly a luxurious place - better than Arkham without a doubt but Oswald hadn't lived on bare necessities for a long time, not even during No Man's Land.

Not since he had started to work for Fish and he and his mother had managed to move out of their shitty apartment in the deep of the Narrows. It had been one of the happiest moments of his life, he still remembered his mother's delighted laugh when they had unlocked the door to their new home and how she had immediately put the oven to use to celebrate. 

Oswald had learnt many things from her, from sewing and doing his makeup to scamming the government - never baking, though.

Maybe Edward would indulge him and make something sweet for him - or maybe not: Oswald had no idea about what state he would find the other man in. The letters they had exchanged during the years had stayed pretty much coherent, with only a couple of disappearances and a handful of serious low moods; it made Oswald hope that Edward's second stay in Arkham had been much easier than his first, that the asylum staffing and methods really had changed - and, deep down, he hoped that in a way they had managed to help Edward. 

What would the other man think of him?

Oswald looked down at himself and grimaced: his style and personality might have stayed the same but physically, he had changed a lot and not for the better; the greasy and heavy prison food had made him put on pound after pound and it wasn't like he could get enough exercise to shed them all.

He was a vain creature, he couldn't help worrying about Edward not finding him attractive anymore. 

Especially after the tones of their letters had dramatically shifted from friendly to _romantic_ \- that would be the first time they saw one another since Edward had admitted his feelings, smudged on greyish frayed paper.

To Oswald, they were as precious as if they had come embossed in real gold on an expensive pure white card and every time Edward had written them, they had seemed even more and more priceless - a gift that he didn't deserve but that he was too greedy to refuse.

A dream that had come true. 

A mirage he was terrified he would witness dissolve into dust. 

The car came to a stop with a smooth roll and Oswald looked out of the window and up to Arkham: the structure hadn't changed much, despite the fact that the rest of the city had gone through a thorough renovation.

In a way, it felt right - _something to remind Gotham as it had been_. 

"Should I unlock the doors, sir?"

Oswald nodded "Please" then, he drew out his gun and put it in his lap, ready to be pointed and fired: if there was something that his permanence in Blackgate had hammered once again in his brain, it was that Gotham bred more dangerous people than innocent ones.

A lot of stupid ones too - stupid enough that they would try to kill the Penguin to... make a point? become famous? have a shot at his throne?

 _Ridiculous_.

His skin was starting to prickle and his heart was beating faster than probably recommended for a man of his age and weight and with a medical history of heart diseases in his family but he couldn't help it - and it didn't get any better when he got a glance of the other man, unsteadily tottering out of Arkham on those long and thin legs of his. 

Too thin. 

Oswald's insides knotted at the evidence of just how much weight Edward had lost during his incarceration: how many weeks would be necessary for him to go back to a healthy weight? for his ribs to stop showing through his skin? for his cheekbones to stop looking as sharp as they did in that moment?

He opened the door. 

"Oswald" Edward smiled for what it felt like the first time in a whole decade "You look..."

"...fat?"

Edward shook his head and bent down so that he could join the other man in the car, sliding forward and crowding Oswald against the opposite door, hands going to frame that face with a butterfly-like fluttering "You look... you look _breathtaking_ and mine. Mine, mine, mine mine mine mineminemine"

" _Yours_ "

Hearing that word was enough to give him a high worthy of the best drugs he had managed to get his hands on over the years "Oswald" his name was a prayer - an invocation "Can I kiss you?"

"Tell me you love me first" he needed to know that he hadn't imagined everything - that those faded words had been _real_. 

"I love you, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot"

 _First kisses had never tasted that divine_.  


End file.
